In Full Bloom
by JoMarchWrites
Summary: One night has been haunting Detective Olivia Benson, the memory plaguing her. One night, where lines were crossed, & others erased entirely. A night when bonds were broken, and stronger ones formed. A night that changed everything, and it proved that the small seed of hope she had for a future with the only man she ever loved had taken root, grown, and was finally in full bloom. EO


_**Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.**_

 _Tell me what you want._

His words echoed in her ears for hours.

 _Wait, don't tell me. I already know. I know what you want, and I know exactly what you need._

His arrogance carried over into the bedroom, and now, she knew he had every right to be as cocky as he was.

 _You taste...so amazing...so fucking perfect._

Her moan was soft, unintentional, and her eyes drifted shut. She remembered the way his stubbled chin grazed her skin, the way his lips and tongue brought her into the most incredible frenzy of her life. The way he worked her over with just his mouth made her even more certain, more sure.

 _Fuck, you're so tight...hot...wet._

She practically came at the mere memory of his voice in her ear, his hot breath on her neck, when he pushed into her for the first time.

 _Oh, fuck, Liv._

She shifted in her seat as she replayed the night in her mind. She could still feel him between her legs, inside of her, as deep as he could get.

 _Harder...deeper...faster...slower...right there...God, yes...fuck, baby...hold on...harder...fuck...take me...take it...give it to me...just like that...fuck, yes!_

Her voice and his were twisted and tangled, a harmonious duet, overlapping and drowning out each other, yet somehow perfectly blended. She felt the warm wetness pooling between her legs and she moved again, this time crossing her legs and trying to sit up straight. She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath, but it didn't help relax her. She still smelled him on her skin.

 _Baby, Jesus...that was...so fucking incredible._

She smiled, then, as she remembered falling asleep in his arms, still encasing him within her, her head on his chest and their chests and lungs still burning and beating the same syncopated rhythm. When she woke up, he was gone, but he'd left breakfast and a single red rose for her on the table, with the promise of a repeat performance as soon as they closed the day's case.

That was thirty-six hours ago.

A day and a half, without sleep, without a moment alone with him to talk about it, to process it. She looked at the rose, now wilting and losing petals as it slumped over in her pencil holder. She gave it a sad smile and lifted it up gently, not wanting to cause more damage. She ran her index finger along the wrinkled, darkened petals and sighed. It meant everything and nothing, at once. Closing her eyes, she took another breath and slipped the stem back into place in the wired-holder on her desk, and she could feel him staring at her. Slowly, she turned to look over her shoulder.

He smiled at her, and it broke her into a million pieces and put her back together again. She loved him, no matter how much she hated to admit it. She narrowed her eyes, then, and realized she never asked him why, she never asked him what brought it all on. She wasn't sure if he was still married, if she had become his affair, or if that night had meant he left his wife for good, for her. She raised an eyebrow at him as she watched him moving toward her.

He handed her a cup of coffee, leaned over, and whispered, "Meet me upstairs in five minutes."

She furrowed her brow and stared after him as he walked up the metal steps toward the unit's bunk room and disappeared behind the door. She bit her lip and looked at the clock, wondering what he wanted, what he needed, and if it was the same thing she did. The second hand moved like the Grim Reaper, taking its time as it crawled around the face of the timepiece, the moment of truth drawing nearer. Clearing her throat she stood, pulling on her clothes. After downing her coffee in two sips, she busied herself with straightening up the tops of her and Elliot's desks. She bit her lip and glanced at the lock, unable to wait any longer, fear creeping into her mind, wondering if he was about to tell her he regretted that night, regretted her.

With a pounding heart, she climbed up the stairs, gripped the door knob, and closed her eyes as she turned it. She held her breath as she walked into the room, but that breath escaped in a loud burst when she felt his hands on her, throwing her against the wall. His lips crashed into hers, his tongue invading her mouth. His hands worked over her arms, her hips, wrapping around her waist and pulling up her shirt. She gasped when his cold hands splayed across her bare back, then worked their way into the waistband of her pants. She was lost, kissing him back with as much fire as he was radiating, her own fingers working his button-down shirt open and off. "Wait," she panted, pulling away from him with a regretful whimper. "Wait, El, stop."

As soon as the word left her mouth, he froze, pulling his hands away from her skin and pressing his palms into the wall. "What," he said, breathing heavily, "What happened? Do you not...you regret..."

She shook her head hard and fast, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to convince her lungs to work. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she panted. "Kathy..." she said on a breath. "We didn't talk about...your divorce is..."

"Final," he said, a small smiling pulling at his lips. "I wouldn't have..." he licked his lips, which tasted like her, and he moaned. "I wouldn't do that to you. Or her. I went to you...what happened that night...happened because it...because it finally could." He moved closer to her again, looked into her eyes, and his voice dripped with lust as he whispered, "I was finally allowed to make all those fucking fantasies I've been having about you come true, and shit, Liv, that was the most fucking incredible night of my life." He chuckled. "Why do you think I was so eager to..."

"Why," she asked, though part of her wished she could take it back. She blinked once, and then held his gaze, her hands still toying with the cotton lapels of his shirt, waiting.

"You don't know?" he asked, that smug smirk coming to life on his lips. "I thought I made it pretty fucking clear." He dropped his hands from the wall to her hips, tugging hard on her black pants and undoing the clasp. With a dark laugh, he shoved one hand down into her pants and pushed her cotton underwear aside.

She stiffened and his shirt fell out of her hands to the floor before she curled her fingers around his arms. "El," she whispered.

As he swiped one thick finger up her slick slit, he moaned and scraped his teeth along his bottom lip. "I..." he paused, pushing his finger upward, into her, seething when she dug her nails into his shoulders, "love..." he moaned, dropping his head to the crook of her neck as her tight heat sheathed his finger, and he let his smoky breath hit her ear, let his tongue dart out to flick at her lobe, and then finally whispered, "you."

"Oh, God," she cried, feeling another of his fingers push into her. Her hips rocked against his hand as he twisted his fingers and swirled his thumb lightly over her clit. "Oh, my God, Elliot," she spoke breathlessly. Her eyes flew open and rolled backward when she felt his teeth sink into her neck, and then she curled her fingers tighter, her nails sinking further into his skin.

He moved his fingers faster, almost desperately, thrusting them into and out of her rapidly. He moaned a bit louder when he felt light splashes hit his wrist. "Fuck," he choked out, suckling on her pulse. "God, that all for me?"

She nodded. "Because of you," she told him, trying to turn her head. She made the choice, this time, kissing him hard and letting him overwhelm her.

He pulled his hand away, bringing it toward his mouth, and when he locked eyes with her, he sucked her juices off of his fingers. His eyes closed at her taste and he made the most delicious, satisfied sounds. "The way you taste..." he said, shaking his head, "Fucking hell." He didn't realize she was shoving his pants over his hips until he felt her hand wrap around his cock. "Oh, damn, baby," he said with a sandpaper voice.

She stroked him, long, hard pulls along his shaft, loving the soft, breathy grunts he gave her in return. She looked into his eyes, seeing them bright and dark, and then she moved. She lifted her left leg, sliding it upward against his body, and she laughed when he grabbed her thigh and hooked his arm under her knee. "El," she whispered.

He dropped his head to hers, keeping a steady eye on her, and then gave a slow rock of his body, pushing himself into her, his dick filling her the way he knew no one else ever had, or ever would again. Only him. Only for her. The mood shifted, and although it was up against the wall of a bunker at work, it felt perfectly right. He was no longer in a hurry, no longer rushing and frantic, but now, he kissed her slowly, deeply, and thrust with an elongation that drove them both insane.

He could feel her walls pulsing around him and sliding tightly against his shaft, feel himself hitting the depths of her, feel his pelvis hit hers, with every stroke.

She could feel every incredible inch of him dragging along and pulling her into a state of utter bliss, her body burning with more desire, more need, and more absolute love than she thought was possible. She cried his name into his mouth as he kissed her again.

With one hand holding her leg up and around his waist, the other toyed with her hair. As he thrust into her, he murmured her name over and over, like a chanted prayer.

"El," she moaned again, "Time."

"Shit," he spat, and then sped up. He didn't want to; he wanted, more than anything, to take his time with her, drag it out as long as he could, keep her waiting on the edge of release before making her cry out his name in a way that made his world crumble. That would have to wait. He hit into her harder, faster, even deeper. "Like that, baby?"

"Oh, God, yes," she moaned. She brought her hands up to his face and clutched, holding him, kissing him.

He heard her moans grow louder, higher, and he kissed her with more power, hoping to muffle her cries. "God, you feel so good," he whispered. "Fuck, so fucking perfect, baby. Like you were meant for me. Your body was made for mine." He kissed her again and said, against her lips, "You're fucking mine."

She nodded, feeling flames begin to lick at her body and rise, coursing through her. She felt herself tighten, felt him struggling to keep thrusting.

He was meeting resistance and he used all of his strength to give her what he knew she craved, what he needed, too. "Fuck," he hissed with gritted teeth, "Fuck. Baby. Come on." Short, soft grunts escaped with every hit of his hips against hers. "Cum for me. For me, baby. Let me feel you, Liv."

Her eyes rolled back and she wasn't sure if it was because of his words or the way his body just knew exactly what to do with hers, but she reached for Elliot's hand, pulling it out of her hair and toward her mouth. She made him flatten his palm over her lips and held her hand over his as she looked into his eyes and let herself go. She thrashed between him and the wall, her hips working as hard as his, thrusting against him as she screamed his name and a few obscenities into his hand.

"Oh, my God, Liv," he gasped. Watching her, looking into her eyes and seeing the exact moment she came, made him lose control. He cursed under his breath as he violently thrust a final few times and then stilled, his stomach convulsing and ass clenching as he came, too, inside of her.

Her head dropped to his shoulder, her body slumped against his, and she struggled to breathe. "El," she panted. "Elliot. God. Oh, my God."

He could do little more than nod, kissing her forehead, and he swallowed hard. His chest heaved with every hard breath he took. He stayed where he was, buried in her, pressed to her, feeling her twitch as she came down from her high. He smoothed her dampened hair back and looked at her, smiling. "You look so fucking gorgeous right now." He kissed her. "Your eyes...they're sparkling, baby."

She took a moment, took a breath, and took a long, hard swallow. "Yeah, that's...that's your fault."

He laughed. "I'm not sorry," he told her. He kissed her again. "I want to make you look like that...constantly, for the rest of our lives." He let her down gently and when her feet hit the floor, he whispered, "I mean that."

She looked at him. "I know you do." She blinked. "So...is this just...are we..." she bit her lip, unable to form the question, words failing her when she needed them most.

"Oh, honey," he said with a small laugh. "We are. I think...I think we started this a long time ago, but now it's...official." He saw her nod and he kissed her softly.

Wordlessly, they helped each other put their clothes back on. He fixed her hair, she tied his tie, and they stayed, only for a moment, staring silently at each other. Years of being helplessly, hopelessly in love, devoted and loyal only to each other, had brought them to this moment. She leaned in, pressing her lips against his one last time before turning toward the door.

He sighed, an easy and genuine smile on his face as he followed close behind her.

She turned around, though, stopping him, and she winked at him and said, "You busy tonight?"

He laughed and ran his tongue along his teeth as he nodded knowingly at her. "Yeah," he told her. "I am." He moved closer to her and said, "With you."

With another small chuckle, she led him back down the stairs and back to work, and she glanced up at the clock again. She let out a breath as she sat back down at her desk and picked up her case file. She reached for a pen but grabbed the stem of her rose, and immediately she looked up. It was full, bright, alive. She raised an eyebrow and looked at Elliot, wonder in her eyes.

He winked at her as he tossed the dead rose into the trash can near his desk, straightened out his shirt, and sat down, eager to finish his paperwork and go home, with her.

She smiled as she smelled the rose, and then put it back in the pencil holder and grabbed a pen. She set off to finish her own work, but paused before writing anything down. She looked up, across the desk at Elliot. "El?"

"Yeah?" he answered, beaming at her.

"By the way," she smiled softly, and then she said the one thing she waited too long to say, and knew he'd waited too long to hear. "I love you, too."

 _ **Peace and Love**_

 _ **Jo**_

 _ **MarchCommaJo on Twitter**_


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